Fighting with Words: the Last Resort
by Chavi
Summary: Complete in fifteen chapters. The return of Professor Snape--as he was meant to be! Harry/Ginny and Hermione/Ron. Enjoy!
1. Crazy Old Bat

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Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are not mine. They never have been. They never will be. I haven't seen this plot used before, so I'm pretty sure it's mine, but then, I'm not really sure about a lot of things.

_Dumbledore. Crazy old bat. Hasn't the slightest bit of sense, at least of the common sort. No, nothing about Dumbledore is common, least of all his sense._ Snape thought to himself, bitingly. His classroom sharpness had spread to all quarters of his life, including private thought. _Idiot students massing around the machines, complaining, crowding, **talking**_._ Why won't they realize that their current 'true-love', no matter how pure, will be gone in a week as likely as not, or the futility of discussing the homework I give - as if any argument **they **could give would be half-way convincing._

Little did the kindly professor know that, at that very moment, three students _were _discussing the futility of their arguments. 

"It's not like he'll listen to anything you have to say. It's pointless to try, so lets get our homework done instead- please?"

"Oh, shut it about the homework, Hermione. Haven't you realized that your arguments in favor of our getting every assignment done early are futile? And besides, this book might be useful..." Ron turned back to the muggle book Harry held with great interest.

*****

At the start of the summer holidays Harry had found, to his delight, that Dudley had been forced to take up a sport or activity for his fifth year at Smeltings. Seeing as beating people up wasn't offered and any other options involved exercise or creative talent, Dudley was put in the Debate program. 

"Club full of pansies!" Vernon Dursley had been heard to mutter before forcing Harry to help Dudley practice, adding, "A bunch of pansies won't do better than my son... or they'd better not!" The last was said threateningly to Harry, who realized that he'd better learn some of the finer points of debate, and fast. 

Thankfully, Dudley had brought a book. This book would never be seen in the chambers of Hogwarts' library, nor in most respectable muggle equivalents; it was, however, quite typical of the Smeltings attitude. _Fighting with words- a last resort. Figures._ It took all of Harry's monumental willpower to open the cover. 

Surprisingly enough, it turned out to be a reasonable guide to the art of debate. Harry read it through once, then once again. _Dudley will love this... he'll learn to insult people without getting in trouble. Of course, I'll be the one who has to teach him, since a bunch of 'mamma's boys' can't possibly do better than Dudley Dursley. _

Harry snorted. _Debate seems like the perfect activity for Slytherins... they certainly know how to insult people, and could finally put it to use productively. For that matter, debate would be perfect for **Snape!** I wonder... _

His thought was lost as Dudley thundered up the stairs and pounded on his door. "Get out here, you!" His door was ripped open, and Harry could see that Dudley was not at all happy to be told to go to Harry for help. _What a wonderful summer this will be..._

*****

The summer had, in fact been one of the worse ones, and that was saying a lot- but it _had_ given Harry a number of ideas for the coming year. 

"You see, if we could just out-talk Snape, maybe he would get flustered, or break into tears, and the whole year would suddenly be worth it." Harry said, closing the book and standing up. He started to head down to the Great Hall, the other two following. 

Hermione's look suggested that she found the idea very unlikely, but Harry continued on, "and it doesn't hurt to try- who wouldn't want to learn to argue?"

The conversation continued as the trio walked into the new students' lounge. Certainly one of Dumbledore's more interesting ideas, the lounge combined muggle and magical inventions to the delight of all. Couches were decorated in all house colors, with a corner for each house; there was a very well outfitted arcade, air hockey and ping-pong tables, and a number of tables for study groups. The most popular area by far, however, was the wall with vending machines. Muggle pops and candy bars, magical frogs and every flavor beans, most everything was available for one credit- and it was the credits that had Dumbledore praising his own genius.

Students had gained and lost house points daily, without any personal reward. The vending machines changed everything. Suddenly, one point gained automatically gave you one credit, and the reverse occurred if one was lost. Books were studied religiously in the hopes of answering a question correctly and earning points.

While Dumbledore had been heard to ask why he had not done this before, Snape despised the entire room. Hordes of students, loud students, in one place. Since the only way into the Great Hall was through the lounge, he braved the place four times a day, and his mood got worse with each passing. _Students doing their work, extra careful just so that they can buy a candy bar. I'm running out of reasonable reasons to deduct points._

Though most of the students thought of Snape as anything but fair, he honestly didn't want to start taking points for no reason, especially since it would have to include his Slytherins. They were some of the loudest of the bunch, especially around the infernal machines.

*****

Having already listened to Harry's pro-debate arguments and Hermione's rebuttals, Ron Weasley left his friends to push his way towards the 'infernal machines', the muggle pop dispenser in particular. Earlier in the day he had found a lost first year, and guided her to Transfiguration. While McGonagall had not been pleased with the new student, she had had to give Ron ten points. 

Having heard the fizzy drinks described in great detail by Harry, who had snuck a bit at one of Dudley's birthday parties, and Hermione, whose parents occasionally splurged on a can of the 'liquid sugar', Ron was going to put his newly earned credits to good use.

_Pepsi, Coke, Sprite, Seven-up..._ According to Harry and Hermione this was a surprising selection, as most schools and restaurants were endorsed by either Pepsi or Coke. _What kind of name is Pepsi? And what are these Diet things? Do they make you thinner, the more you drink, or... I guess it's a muggle thing. _

Despite the many options, most of which sounded utterly disgusting, Ron finally settled on the one Hermione had suggested: a nice, simple, Pepsi.

Snape strode across the lounge, radiating a strong 'stay _away _from me if you have any idea of what is good for you' attitude. He might have to walk through it, but he didn't have to like it, or leave anyone with any doubts as to whether he liked it.

Ron held his wand tip up to the credit hole, and the magical projection of a poker chip floated down into the machine. He pressed the button proclaiming "Pepsi," then reached down to pull out the brightly colored can that fell out of the dispenser.

Parvati Patil stepped from foot to foot behind Ron, waiting impatiently for her chance to try out the new machines. She knew exactly what she wanted: An ice cold Mr. Pibb. Just the name sounded cool, and Parvati Patil was nothing if not cool.

Snape walked faster still, trying to block out the noise of ten pinball machines, not to mention the students.

Ron triumphantly turned around with his prize, not noticing Parvati until he was falling to the floor with a resounding thunk. The Pepsi flew out of his hands like it was greased, landing with a thud at the edge of Snape's robes.

As Ron leapt over to grab the can from the vicinity of Snape, appearing to think that his very aura might contaminate it, and, trying to regain a semblance of dignity, immediately started to open the can, every muggle-born in the room reached out as if to stop him.

Hermione's voice rang out over all others. "Ron! NOOOO!"

It was too late.

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A/N: Okay, pretty confusing, but it wanted to be written. Not finished yet, I do want to start a debate program at Hogwarts...see what happens with that...

My apologies to any offended debaters- I'm portraying my idea of what a Smeltings attitude would be. Harry will, hopefully, put this knowledge to good use. I've a lot of friends in debate, and wish that I could take it. 


	2. How can you be so stupid?

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Disclaimer: I think that the plot is mine. What you recognize isn't, but then, you're all smart, discerning readers, and knew that already, and I'm just rambling to myself. 

It was an explosion fit for the Guy Fawkes day. "I didn't- bloody Hell, what's _in _those _cans!_" Hermione hurried over to where Ron stood sputtering and cursing and Snape was glaring. 

"How on earth could you be so _stupid_, Ron? We told you that they were fizzy, and didn't you hear me _warning_ you? No, you're a big macho man, who never does anything wrong- look what you did to Professor Snape!" It was at this moment that Snape cast a quick spell, grimacing at having to admit to any knowledge of charms, that cleaned the spilt soda off of everything- everything but Ron. 

Ron stood there, silent for once. He was soaked, sticky, had forgotten the charm to reverse that, and was at the wrong end of one of Snape's harsher looks. Everyone in the room was looking at him. He ran. 

*****

When Harry and Hermione finally found Ron, it was locked in Moaning Myrtles bathroom. "Ron! Get _out_ here- NOW! You're late for Divination, and I am _not _skipping Arithmancy. Oh, for- Myrtle, can you come talk to us?" Hermione pleaded.

Myrtle slid through the wall faster than they had ever seen her go. "Oh," she sobbed, "Oh, he's even making _me_ depressed... more depressed. He's your friend, get him out of my bathroom... I just want to sit on the sink, and think about the fact that I'll never get to taste a soda... or go to the ball..."

"Myrtle. Snap out of it. We'd get Ron out of there if we could get in."

Harry's comment only served to start Myrtle weeping louder. "There you go once more- I'll never open another door, or get locked out," She suddenly glared at them both. "I don't think I will help you in!"

"Myrtle, come on!" Harry pleaded, "We truly didn't mean anything by what we've said."

"I don't believe you. I think-" Myrtle was cut off by Hermione, who had had enough.

"Ron, we've tried being polite. You are being a fool, and we're coming in whether you like it or not. _Alohamora_!" The door flew open to reveal Ron, face brilliant red and clashing horribly with his hair, glaring menacingly at them. 

Harry was never sure whether it was a backlash laugh, heroically held back from the incident with the pop can, or just the sight of Ron verily steaming out the ears, still covered in Pepsi, or perhaps a combination of the two, but he couldn't help it. He let out a gigantic snort, then started to laugh hysterically. It wasn't a soft, polite little church laugh, but a gigantic guffawing noise that filled up the chamber and echoed through the Hall. 

Ron and Hermione both looked at him in shock. 

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!? THIS IS NOT FUNNY! I LOOKED LIKE AN IDIOT OUT THERE!" Ron screamed as loudly as he could, which was loud enough to annoy some very proper paintings three or four corridors away, and even Hermione looked at Harry with disapproval. 

Harry tried to control himself, he really did, but it was far too much. Ron looked like he was about to start yelling again when someone interrupted. "What a _touching _show we have here.. the trio, all split up. You forgot your book," Snape threw the debate book to the ground, and added, "And then we had the issue of some sort of suitable punishment..."

Not being able to stop laughing suddenly was very much a non-issue. The bite to Snape's voice made it difficult to imagine any scrap of humor surviving in a hundred foot radius, he was so cuttingly cold. Ron blanched, unconsciously backing away.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. What could we possibly do with you- assaulting a teacher, soiling school property, and_ running away_. Why, I do believe you will be getting a Howler from your _dear _mother in the near future. Shall it be suspension- or merely a month of detentions. Not to mention the hundred points lost."

It was more than unfair. "Professor, Ron made a mistake. He's human. You must grant him the right to be human, and, as such, imperfect. No lasting damage was done, no damage, in fact, that you could not repair with a simple spell. The only true, lasting damage was to Ron's pride and dignity, which is surely punishment enough!" Harry slipped into the calm, logical voice recommended by Dudley's book. He stated his points, then paused for Snape's argument.

The professor was silent. He simply looked from Harry, to Ron, to the book lying on the floor, all with a sneer. "Debate? You have improved from previous years, but I fear that it will never be your strength. I will punish as I see fit, as is my right as a Hogwarts professor. You would do well to remember my position-" 

Ron and Hermione watched with horror as Harry smoothly interrupted, un-phased by Snape's insults. "You didn't answer me- afraid that I might get the better of you?"

There was the slightest glint of humor in Snape's eyes that only Hermione seemed to catch. "_You_ seek to get the better of _me_? It might be harder than you think- but it would be amusing to watch. Very well. We shall debate, at a set time, a set topic. There will be equal preparation time for both of us. If you are judged the winner, then I will retract all punishments and return all house-points. Should I win, however, you and your red-haired friend will serve two months detention, with one-hundred points off, each." Seeing Harry's startled look, he added, "For impertinence to a teacher. Happy now?"

The three looked at him, shocked. This was scary; very, very, scary. 

"That sounds like a _splendid_ idea. We shall need to start planning at once- unless you have any objections, Harry?" Considering how the day had been going, Dumbledore's startling appearance out of the woodwork didn't seem that shocking. 

"Um... no, I guess... I think..." Harry looked to Hermione and Ron for support; they, unfortunately, were as uncertain as he. He decided to go for it, hoping that his housemates wouldn't be _too_ disappointed when they lost the house cup. "We'll do it. We'll do it."

Snape snorted, but straightened his face back into the usual sneer at Dumbledore's glare. "I certainly have no issues with it, Headmaster, seeing as it was my idea."

"Splendid! If this goes well, we must consider making a tournament an annual event! Professor, Harry, if you would be so good as to follow me, we can firm up the rules and topic?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Harry said slowly, looking back at his two friends as he followed Dumbledore and Snape. _What a wonderful afternoon this shall be..._

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A/N: Okay, I hoped you liked this latest installment- and I need your help. I have no idea what the debate topic could be! Something sort of funny, but still serious enough- if you know what I mean. Anyways, please help.

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Wolfs Bane: I'll think about it, I just kind of have the story planned out, plus I don't really know what you mean...

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VyingQuill: The diet thing was one of my favorite lines. It seemed very Ronnish.

And, of course, my dear friend **EvilFireWitch**.

Thank you all! Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated.


	3. Uggh- Umm- Urgh-

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Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. The plot is. Please don't take it. 

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A/N: I have Snapie and Harry listed as the main characters. They are. This is not slash. They are not romantically connected in any way, seeing as Snape HATES Harry, and the feeling is more than mutual. I will be fostering that hatred, for now at least. 

The walk to Dumbledore's office seemed longer than ever. Snape's glaring presence at his side was enough to make Harry walk as fast as possible, slowing only when he realized that he was about to pass Dumbledore.

The old professor looked over his shoulder at the two as he continued to walk, sighing softly to himself. Though they wouldn't have known it, Severus, Harry, and especially their continued antagonism towards each other were burs in Dumbledore's knickers. _Why **can't **we all just get along? Severus had to take his hatred of James out on Harry, not letting the grudge die like it should have..._ Then again, maybe they would know it- Severus at least. And he would be very sorry, but wouldn't relent at all.

_Maybe this is my chance... to right a wrong that has festered for more than twenty years. Well, if it is, they sure aren't going to like me very much_. Dumbledore thought it over, then decided to commit himself. He commandingly said, "Ton-tongue Toffees!" and the door slowly opened. 

Dumbledore entered, sighing as he tried to ignore the two unlikely debaters behind him.

"After you, Professor."

"No, no, I would never wish to detract from one of your _grand_ entrances, Potter. I must insist that you go first."

"No, you must go. _I _insist."

"Just get in here, both of you!" It was one of those rare times that Dumbledore lost control for just a second, but it was enough. 

Severus and Harry both tried to get into the room at the same time, getting themselves stuck in the doorway in the process. Each glared at the other, bracing themselves on the doorway, and forcing the way through.

"Sit. Now." They remained standing, warily, until he added, "_Now._" Snape set himself delicately into one of the two plush armchairs before the desk, and Harry headed for the other.

"You two have been at each others throats since you met. I know the reasons behind this hatred. I also know that it must stop. That is why I have chosen this topic for your debate." He eyed them carefully. Oh, were they ever going to be mad. _It's for their own good. They just can't see it yet. Not that they necessarily will ever see it, but that is beyond the point._

"The topic is whether certain teaching styles are more effective than others. For instance, could you, Professor Snape, obtain equal or better classroom results were you to nurture a more... comforting attitude ... I suggest you study up on _both _sides, as you won't know which side you will be fighting until the day of the match. I think, also, that it would be easier for both of you to split the work up a bit- so you can each take a partner for the debate. Well?"

They both sat, staring at him in shock. The topic was supposed to be something that was easy, for this not really real debate- how on earth had Dumbledore come up with _that_ topic on the short walk to his office? (A/N: Especially since it took me two days to come up with it, and it's not even funny like I was hoping for. Definitely not fair, that is. Dumbledore is so much smarter than I, even when I'm writing him.)

Dumbledore sat down easily in his big armchair, rolling his fingertips across the oak of his desk. He sat innocently, eyes twinkling away as Severus Snape, still at a loss for words, suddenly stood up, looming very threateningly, then spun and walked out of the office, robes swirling around him. He still sat as Harry slowly regained his speech, if not his knowledge of the English language. 

"Professor- You- It- We-"

"One pronoun at a time, please, Harry. I know very well what you are undoubtedly thinking of me right now, just as I know what Severus Snape is, and as I knew before I announced the topic. I did, however, seriously consider making you forget the whole idea of a debate and instead forcing you into resolving your differences through an Air Hockey match- a very good way to get your inner aggression out. 

"Fun as it would be, this _will_ work better. I know what I am doing. Now, why don't you go inform your friends of the topic, and pick your partner. I believe that they are to be found in the lounge, perhaps?"

"Uggh- Umm- Urgh- yes, professor." Harry left slowly, a dazed look on his face. 

_Oh, dear. Have I just made one of the biggest mistakes in my life? Or will it all work out as it is supposed to? ... I think I need a lemon drop._

*****  


Hermione and Ron had gotten into a bit of an argument by the time that Harry got down to the lounge. To put it more precisely, they were screaming their lungs out at each other, both at the same time. Ginny sat in between them at one of the couches, and was squirming down lower and lower, looking as if there was no place that she'd rather be less. 

Every person in the lounge, and there were a good number, stared at that single Gryffindor couch, and the two screamers seemed oblivious to it all. Ginny just grew redder and redder, looking worse with a blush than even Ron.

The screamed words slowly became distinguishable to Harry, who wanted to know what the fight was about before he attempted to break it up.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ANYTHING? HARRY IS GOING TO HAVE TO BEAT SNAPE, OR _BOTH_ YOU AND HE ARE GOING TO BEAT SIRIUS'S DETENTION RECORD!" Hermione screamed, turning a purplish-red.

"IF YOU HAD WARNED ME ABOUT THE STUPID POP NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED!" Ron snarled. 

"IF YOU HAD WATCHED WHERE YOU WERE GOING!" 

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" they both yelled, then both fell silent as they realized precisely how loud they had gotten.

Harry looked from one to another with amusement, the debate topic forgotten, then locked eyes with Ginny. She nodded, much relieved now that Ron and Hermione weren't going on so outrageously. He walked to the couch, and held a hand out to the middle girl.

Ginny smiled brightly, took the hand, and walked out with Harry, leaving the other two to stare. "Did- did my sister just walk out with _Harry_?"

"Yes. Yes, she did. I wonder how long it's been?"

"What do you mean how long it's been? You think- oh, no!" He made to go running after them, but Hermione pulled him back. 

"It's sweet. Let them go. They deserve each other."

"Yea, they both know how to put up with us when we get like that..."

"You know, I think that they would say that we deserve each other, too." Hermione spoke somewhat softer, turning her face away.

"Well, I know that they're wrong. I could never deserve you." Ron stood and held his hand out to Hermione, who took it and followed him out. 

"You know, Harry never did tell us what the topic is- for the debate? Or any of the rules, or anything."

"We'll find out soon enough. Probably something stupid, or something."

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A/N: I didn't like this chapter. It wasn't funny. I couldn't make this part funny. I wanted it to be funny, but... oh, well. It will get funnier. Every time I think about the debate I picture Harry pacing, in a suit and tie, and carrying a briefcase, with that 'studious hero' expression on his face.

I apologize for the fluff, but it seemed the right way to end this chapter. There shouldn't be too much else, but then, who knows? (certainly not me...)

Please review, comments and criticism are very welcome.

Thanks!


	4. Chocolate Chip Cookies

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Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. The plot is. Please don't take it. (I used to try to make these funny, or unusual, and then I realized- why bother? It's the same thing that is in every story in every category... I still like the unusual ones, but please, does anyone _else_ read these? Okay, end ramble.)

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A/N: I could not think of anything to write for this so I put it off, but here it is now and I'll try to get more out sooner because I've gotten some very nice reviews, and a thousand thanks for all of those, and ... I'm rambling again. Sorries. 

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand. He looked down at her questioningly. "What?"

"They deserve each other." She smiled slyly, evil images of Ron and Hermione fighting their was through life flitting through her mind.

"They do. And it's certainly going to be entertaining for the rest of us."

The two walked in silence for a moment, finally coming to a stop at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was nowhere in sight.

"What do you want to bet she's gossiping with all her friends about the debate?"

"That would be a very stupid bet, Harry, as we all know it's true." She sat at the entranceway to wait for the Fat Lady's return, pulling him down beside her. "What _is _the topic of the debate?"

"I didn't tell you?" Ginny emphatically shook her head, and Harry shrugged. "I guess I was distracted by all the screaming. Dumbledore stuck it to us- we have to debate the effectiveness of teaching methods- you know, would students learn more if Snape patted you on the back and passed out chocolate chip cookies every time you answered correctly." 

Ginny looked at him. "What? That's what the topic _is_! I'm serious!" She still looked at him, eyebrows raised every so slightly, and eyes widened disbelievingly. "It's true- okay, maybe Dumbledore didn't say it in so many words, but we do have to debate teacher effectiveness. Dumbledore told us to research both sides, because we could argue either one."

She burst out laughing. "Snape is going to argue that he could be a better teacher by passing out chocolate chip cookies?"

"He might have to, or lose, and he would never do that... It's sort of a catch-22 for Snape. If we end up getting those sides."

"Here's your cookie, Harry," Ginny said obsessively, smiling very weirdly in imitation of Snape in imitation of a kind mother giving her son a wonderful home-made dessert. 

It was perfect.

They looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. 

*****

When Ron and Hermione came along Harry and Ginny they were lying on the floor trying not to laugh any more. 

Ron surveyed them, Ginny with her head on Harry's lap, Harry's hands slowly twirling her flaming hair... He walked over to Harry's head and stared down at him in that way that elder brothers have perfected when dealing with their younger sister's suitors. 

"If you ever have or ever do hurt Ginny in any way you will never want another girl again."

Harry, suddenly serious, looked straight at Ron. "I know. I would never do anything like that. And I think that you would be more worried about her breaking my heart." The last was said as the caressed the top of her head. 

Ron grinned slightly. "That matters less to me. Now, don't you guys want to actually get into the Common Room?" He nudged Ginny's leg with a foot, eliciting a sharp kick to the shin. "Or not, whichever you prefer."

Harry looked up at the frame where the Fat Lady now sat. "Why didn't you tell us that you got back?"

"Well, you looked like you were having so much fun... Not that kind of fun!" She reassured Ron when he started to tense. "They were having a good laugh, and I must say that I've been laughing, too. What _will_ Dumbledore do to Snape next?"

Hermione and Ron looked quizzically at Harry. "What's she talking about?"

"The topic for the debate, that Dumbledore chose..." He paused, trying very hard not to look at Ginny. Harry knew that, if he did, they would be laughing for another half hour before he would be able to tell Ron and Hermione the topic. Finally he decided to just get it out as fast as possible. "The topic is whether some teaching methods get better results than others- like if Snape- If Snape-" 

He gave up and collapsed again with Ginny. She looked up at the questioning expressions on their faces, and had mercy. "If Snape, instead of being the mean old git that he is, handed out cookies- chocolate chip cookies- with an apron on- when you answered correctly-" 

The four friends did not end up making it into the Commons for some time.

*****

Dean, Seamus and Neville gathered around Harry and Ron when they went up to the dorms. 

"All the paintings are talking about it."

"They say that Snape hasn't left his rooms since Dumbledore gave him the ultimatum."

"They say that it's Dumbledore's best idea yet."

"Most entertaining, at least."

"Will we get to watch?"

Harry shrugged. He should have known that the debate would be big news around the school; Snape being forced to defend an unfair punishment was big news. "I don't really know how it's going to be set up- all I know is the topic, that we need to research both sides, and that I need a partner."

Everyone pulled away at this. No one wanted to face the certain wrath of Snape for having the audacity to disagree with him in public. He smiled. "That's okay. I think that I'm going to ask Ginny."

"Ginny?" Neville asked.

"Even though she always ends up around you, Ron, and Hermione when you are fighting, she doesn't lose control. That's important in a debate partner. Plus, I enjoy working with her."

The four boys looked at each other, then at Harry. 

"Yeah."

"Work."

"That's right."

He tried to defend himself. "It's true! She's very smart, and hard-working!"

"Whatever you say, Harry."

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A/N: I liked that chapter ... hopefully you all will too...

Thanks so much for the reviews, it makes me so happy! Thanks go to **Eureka, RetroBirdie, witchchild, snapefan, Mary :), and fluere113- **many thanks to you for reviewing every chapter, and telling me that the third chapter was okay...

That's about it. I'll try to write more soon, some sort of tension release with school having started... of course, I probably should be doing my chemistry, but that's okay! Tah!


	5. Chapter One: An Introduction to the Art

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Disclaimer: Characters: not mine. Plot: mine. No touchie! (Doesn't that movie rock? I mean, it's hilarious! Oh, well...)

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A/N: School's on, and all that means is that I've got homework out the wazoo. Whatever that means. I'll try to update and such, but apologies in advance anyways. 

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Chapter One: An Introduction to the Art, and an Argument as to why it Should be Studied

Debate is the option when all else is forgone; the tool that can not be stolen, no matter how strong your opponent. Fighting With Words: the Last Resort will give you suggestions and rules as to conduct during a debate, but only with practice will you attain the mastery possible. Study hard, learn this book, and accomplish much.

"You have got to be joking." 

"I'm serious! That's what it says!" 

"Besides the fact that that was ridiculous, you're telling me that Dudley understood more than one word in ten?"

"Well, I had to translate a bit, but I've become quite accomplished in Oafish Brute over the years- you could nearly say that I'm bilingual!"

Ginny glared at Harry. "We're expected to learn debate from a book like that?"

"It gets a good bit better- let me read you some more ... where's that page?" Harry thumbed through the book, finally finding the section that he was looking for. "Try not to laugh. I've come to realize that they mean everything seriously, this as much as anything."

"What are you talking about? How bad can it be?" 

He sighed. "You have no idea. Now listen...

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One thing to note when debating is that brutish insults are not tolerated. Despite how satisfying they can be, misplaced remarks can very easily lose you a match. Do not refer to the opponent as any of the following:

1. A communist. Judges do not appreciate this, especially.

2. A jerk. Besides the fact that this is one of the most basic insults, and thus implies low intelligence, you should win your matches through brilliant arguments. Insults suggest that you do not believe that you can win

3. Stupid. Need we explain? See above.

4. Of any certain political party. They are arguing the case just as you are. 

5. A fruit. If you believe them to be such, you must address them with their flavor. For instance, if you are in the process of defeating a particularly fruity opponent and don't wish to be bothered with other forms of address, you might call them Sir Banana, or Sir Plum, depending on which he appears to embody. 

I need not tell you that if insults are the only way, disguise them in platitudes so they are not easily recognizable. This will often confuse and fluster any opposition, and, if your judge is rather thick, he might not notice.

"There. I told you."

"And I didn't believe you... I can't believe this!"

"Just you wait- it gets even better!" Ginny groaned, and Harry smiled sympathetically. "I'll let you off the hook for now- but just you wait! Until then, would you like to got to the lounge for some snacks? I've got some points saved up!"

"Ah! The Hogwarts date uses not money, but points! What a delightful way to insure that only those deserving can treat!"

Harry flushed a little as he looked at Ginny. "Um.. is this a date? I mean, I'd like it to be, because- I really like you- and we've been really close lately, but I wasn't sure if..."

"Sure Harry! I'd love to go out with you!" Ginny grinned and added, "Or at least, that's what you would have asked if you weren't so shocked. I've liked you for a long time now, and I'm not going to let you get out of it." 

He smiled slightly, and held out his hand. "So, Ginny, would you like to go out with me?"

They walked together down the hall towards the lounge, hand in hand. 

*****

Ron was complaining to Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, and everyone else who stood still long enough for him to trap them. "I can't believe this! My little sister, waltzing around with him like a little- oh, how could he do this to me? She's young! Impressionable! Immature! She's not ready for a boyfriend! She's not old enough!"

Hermione had had enough. Walking over to Ron, she took his shoulders and kissed him, pulling away as soon as he started to enjoy it. "That will be the last kiss you'll get for some time unless you shut up about Ginny and Harry. One: She's as old as you were when you were gadding about with that Hufflepuff, whatever her name was. Two: She's far more mature now than you could ever hope to be- do _not_ comment, you know that she's mature beyond her years. Three: She and Harry are perfect for each other. I seem to remember having a similar discussion about that earlier-" 

It was amazing that Ron hadn't exploded before, and at this he lost any semblance of control. "They weren't _kissing_ then, now _were _they?! Right in the lounge, where anyone could see them- it's a disgrace! She's tarnishing the family name!"

"Ron, for goodness' sake, _shut up!_ I was serious about that- and you know that she's not tarnishing the family name. She's a prefect, which you are _not_, and she knows what is proper. Just because you saw them kissing and spilled your Pepsi again doesn't mean that it's wrong! You need to learn to control yourself!" Hermione blushed and quieted when she saw that they were being observed with interest by most of their year-mates. 

Ron, however, didn't notice. He looked directly at Hermione, his moth already forming another argument, and suddenly melted. "I'm so sorry- you're right, of course you are. I can only wish for Ginny and Harry what I've found with you." He knelt before her. "Forgive me?"

Onlookers forgotten, Hermione pulled him up and kissed him hard. "Of course you are! Now you've got to go apologize to Ginny and Harry- she saw you storming out, you know."

"Do I have to?" Ron pleaded.

"Yes," she said sternly.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Come on, Hermione, please?"

"You know that you've got to do it."

Everyone watching could only think how perfect they were for each other.

*****  


"The best way I know of to win an argument is to start by being in the right." 

- Quintin McGarel Hogg, Viscount Hailsham, in the New York Times

****

A/N: I can't seem to write without sweetness and such! I mean, I like sweetness, but I thought that this would just be a humour thing, and (and I've started spelling words the British/ Canadian way- humour, colour- but that's beside the point) it's not! I mean, it is, but it's got sweetness, too. So that's going to be a secondary topic. 

It's also going to be PG-13. I don't see any profanity coming, but for the kissing; well, better safe than sorry. 

Please review! They are all _so_ appreciated, and they make me feel happy all day! I glow! Seriously! 

Tah!


	6. Who says I can't dance?

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Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I do not make any money off of them; I do not plan to make any money off of them. The plot _is_ mine; please don't steal it. 

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A/N: Okie-doke, I have yet to figure out if anyone has been reading the past two chapters, so I might very well just be talking to myself; however, I do that all the time anyway. Please read and review, because although I _do _talk to myself, it doesn't mean that I like it. Okie? Dokie.

Weeks of classes, research and Ginny passed; Harry expended minimum effort in his classes, (except for Potions) spent countless hours studying teacher methods and research, and cherished every second with Ginny, though most of the time they had was while researching. 

Ron and Hermione watched with amusement as Harry and Ginny mastered the art of debate, mostly by arguing with each other. 

"You can't use that as an argument; it's very foundation is faulty! That study was not conducted scientifically, around seventy percent polled were girls- Of course they'd be more likely to appreciate a 'bad guy'!"

"You're sick, Harry! Two-thirds of this years first years are female, and the entire year is averaging higher test scores- both genders! You need to address the fact that gender is an issue in how teachers will teach classes, and this study is based on that question!"

Professor Dumbledore had, to Harry's surprise, given them a roll of credits to use in the lounge; with coffee being off-limits to students, he and Ginny were becoming Pepsi-addicts. Every possible hour was put to use, homework delegated to any free seconds- nothing was more important than beating Snape. 

*****

Dean and Seamus had collaborated with the paintings to form a betting pool, and the odds were not good for Harry and Ginny. There were a variety of options in terms of bets, and one of the more popular ones was on Snape's partner- if he chose to take one. 

"Who on _earth_ would want to partner with him?"

"Extra credit, maybe?"

"Not worth it- perhaps he blackmailed someone!"

"Would it be a teacher-"

"Don't be silly, everyone knows that they all despise him!"

Seamus smirked as the group of chattering Hufflepuffs walked out. He placed no bets, but had a definite opinion on the topic. After all, Malfoy would be grateful for any chance to beat Harry, especially since it seemed like they couldn't lose. Seamus wasn't so sure about that, though- Harry might not have been the smartest one, but he had luck, and certain knack that made him hard to beat in anything, and Ginny was the brightest sixth year by far. 

Snape, however, was difficult to face in class when he had any number of Gryffindors to focus on; in the debate he would be determined to break Harry by any means necessary. _It's going to be interesting..._

*****

Parvati and Lavender were having a heyday with Professor Trelawney, predicting any number of stunning defeats; luckily Harry had been using that class to get some much-needed rest, and had actually heard few of them. There was just one, one so outrageous that Ron felt it necessary to wake Harry so that he could deal with it himself. 

"_I_ think that he was lucky in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and there is no way that he'll be able to stand up to Snape! He'll _probably_ go running out of the room, crying like a little baby! I _was_ his partner at the ball, and he couldn't even _dance_!"

"Unfortunately, I believe that you will be proven correct, my dear Parvati. Look at the combination of the cards, obviously foretelling a stunning and embarrassing defeat."

"Harry!" Ron muttered. "Harry, you've got to get up! Parvati's saying that you can't dance! If that gets spread around you won't be able to _buy_ a date to the next ball!"

Harry looked up wearily. "Ron. Shut up. No one believes what Parvati says, anymore. I will not be looking for a date to the next ball, because I have Ginny. She already knows that I can dance perfectly well. Now let me get some sleep!"

That did not prove to be the smartest thing to have said. "You two have been dancing?! I can't believe it; you two have been dancing! Let me tell you right here and now, Harry, if _anything_ happens to my little sister, I'll-"

"I know, Ron. I will never again see the light of day. Or maybe every day an eagle will eat my spleen. Or Voldemort will look nice in comparison to the Weasley's Wrath. Or all of the above. Can I go back to sleep now?" He did not wait for a response, instead literally falling facedown into his tea. He did not sit back up.

*****

Dumbledore pulled Harry aside after a very rejuvenating Transfiguration lesson, asking Ron and Hermione to go on so that they could speak privately.

"Well, Harry, how have you been?" The old wizard was entirely too enthusiastic for a boy who had slept through a class on transfiguring parchment into various broomstick parts. Seeing that he was going to get no response, Dumbledore continued. "I think that it's time to settle the rules for the event. We have to decide on a time and date, not to mention moderator, and- Harry? Harry, are you awake? Oh, blast it. I'll settle it myself, and _you_ will get up to your dorm." He performed a simple levitating spell and walked up to the Gryffindor common room, pulling the sleeping boy behind him.

Upon reaching the Fat Lady's portrait he whispered the password and entered, hailing Hermione when he saw her sitting in one of the gigantic armchairs, working on an essay for Arithmancy. She looked up sharply as he spoke her name.

"Ms Granger- I believe I have someone for you. He fell asleep before we could talk, so if you could let him know that the debate will be held two weeks from two days ago, at two hours past the noon hour. I will moderate, and the teachers will all contribute in the judging. Also, please get Harry to get some rest _outside_ of classes; I fear he will be too tired to compete, otherwise." 

The twinkle in his eye was working overtime as he added, "Even Pepsi has it's limits. You might inform Ms Weasley of that, as well." He nodded over to the sleeping redhead lying over one of the couches. The wizard, who was often far too aware for comfort, floated Harry over to the coach and set him down next to Ginny, smiled, and left the common room too quickly for Hermione to have any comment. 

She shook her head at the door and walked over to look down at Harry and Ginny. They had unconsciously grasped each other's hands, and looked to be having good dreams. "Sleep well, you two... I'll go and stop Ron from coming up and throwing another fit. Sweet dreams." Smiling at the peaceful expressions on their faces, she threw a blanket over them and left the common room.

*****

Draco Malfoy was very pleased. Not only was Potter going to get in a big way, but he would be the one to deliver it to him. Potter had no chance against Snape in a battle of the wits, and here he was, Snape's partner, ready to help. The last thing that had been _this_ amusing had been when the Chamber had been opened by the muggle-loving girl Weasel, and here she was, Potter's partner. _This will be fun..._

****

A/N: Ta-Dah. Another chapter, completed, and posted. Two weeks of school gone by. I feel very good. Hopefully you liked, please review! I really appreciate them! That's it, I think... 

Tah!


	7. Plastic Surgery, of a Sort...

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Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. Nope. Not likely to be, either. Nope. But the plot is. Yep. And the Hogwarts student lounge. That is all mine. Yep. I'll let you in if you ask politely, but don't you dare touch my couch- I don't share couches. Well, maybe I would with Neal, or George, or Harry... Okay, back to the disclaimer: please do not sue me. I do not own anything that you would want. I mean, who wants my math assignments? My week old math assignments? No one, that's who. Exactly. End ramble. Apologies...

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A/N: I'm trying to figure out how many chapters there'll be; it's not going to be a gigantic fic, I can tell you that- depends on how much I can write. I've got a couple ideas for accompaniment fics, when a debate club has been established... but I precede myself. Here it 'tis.

The inevitable was announced while Harry and Ginny were combing through various class averages and teacher profiles, entrenched behind stacks and stacks of dusty tomes.

The sneering voice was instantly recognizable, though it was unusual to hear it in the library. "All _I_ can say is that Potter and that Weasley chit had better watch out- they've no chance against Snape, and even less of one against _me_." 

"But Malfoy, what if they beat you?" Goyle's bumbling voice was filled with- nothing. He didn't have the brains to color it with any sort of emotion.

"Like that could happen- a muggle-raised, and a muggle-lover. They'll be lucky to not start bawling."

"Well, then why do you need to do any research?" This time Crabbe spoke, as usual full of questions. 

"You'd do better to ask where the common room is, I heard that you got lost after supper last night. I don't _need_ to research, but I want to show Snape what I can do. We won't need anything for the dim duo."

Harry nearly jumped out at this, and Ginny's vice-like grip was nearly not enough. "We don't have time to waste fighting with them right now; save it for next week. We need to concentrate!" She whispered desperately, knowing that Harry could get away if he wanted to. Luckily, he briskly nodded his acquiescence, and went back to his book. 

Ginny looked at him for a moment before throwing her arms around him. He looked up at her and smiled reassuringly. "We can beat them, and we will. I know it. Malfoy never wins."

"Oh, but what if we don't? I'll never get to see you, you'll be in detention so much. It'll just be Hermione and me, moping around here and waiting for you-" He cut her off by pulling her face down to his and kissing her gently. She returned the kiss, sliding over to his lap and settling there. 

"Don't forget," he whispered against her hair, "if we lose Snape is likely to give you just as many detentions. Maybe we'll even get to serve them together: two months of scrubbing floors side by side."

"With _Ron_ there?" she asked with disgust.

He laughed, and set her carefully back in her own chair. "Okay, maybe not. That's why we have to get back to work."

"That's what I told you!"

He laughed again but did not comment, turning a page instead. They knew what they had to do.

*****

Seamus and Dean were capitalizing on Snape's choice of Malfoy; very few had thought that he would go with a student. 

"Yah, but he doesn't want it to be suggested that it was truly unfair. If it were two teachers, or two adults, then it would be terrible odds. Snape has an odd sense of ethics."

"That, or he doesn't want there to be any questions after Harry's been smashed to a bloody pulp."

"That too."

The Fat Lady had to interrupt the Gryffindor's discussion. "We paintings want our share- fifty-fifty."

"But we did all the work! It should be at least seventy-thirty!"

She glared at Seamus. "It was already decided. You wouldn't have been able to start without us backing you up."

"What do you want money for? It's not like you can _buy_ anything."

This time Dean spoke. She glared with equal intensity at him. "We have our reasons. Touch-ups are expensive, you know, and we all would like some changes. Viola has a mole she wants seen to, Sir Cadogan has a _tattoo_, which he is finally going to have removed, and I- well- a few nips and tucks never hurt anyone."

Dean and Seamus were horrified. "So it's kind of the equivalent of plastic surgery?!"

"Too much information!"

She looked down at them with careful dignity and said, "Money, please."

"Wait- Did you say that Sir Cadogan had a tattoo?"

"Wicked!"

"What is it?"

"Money?"

They looked at each other and sighed. "Fifty-fifty on one condition- we get to see Sir Cadogan's tattoo," Dean said.

She eyed them carefully. "I'm not sure that that is prudent."

"What does that mean?"

Seamus suddenly smiled gleefully. "Maybe it's somewhere that's-"

"That is _quite_ enough of that! It is nothing of that sort!" The Fat Lady looked quite rightfully disgusted. 

Sir Cadogan chose this moment to come riding up into her painting. "Aren't giving you any trouble, are they? I knew that I should have been the one to bargain!"

She huffed slightly before responding. "We get fifty-fifty if you show them your tattoo. I must say that I find it a perfectly fine bargain."

At this the stalwart knight flushed slightly around the ears. "Yes, well..."

"Come on, Sir Cadogan! Please?" The two boys tried their best to cajole the knight into a viewing, with the Fat Lady watching with ill-concealed interest. Finally he caved.

"It- it was a bad decision to have it done. I- Oh, blast it." He started to pull up a cuff, when he suddenly demanded, "Money first!"

Dean set the jingling bag of gold down and looked at him expectantly. 

He pulled the sleeve up, slowly.

The Fat Lady moved so as to have a better view.

Seamus held a wizard's camera, (he always carried one around, just in case someone was caught in a compromising condition) ready to pull it out and take a picture.

The cloth's hem was finally pulled up to reveal a drawing, a very colorful and very detailed drawing. Seamus snapped a picture before focusing on the image. He blinked away the flash, then turned to Dean, eyes wide with shock.

They both fainted. 

*****

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown sat together at a table in Professor Trelawney's extravagant classroom. Each was hunched over a silver sphere, and each was concentrating on 'unfogging the future', as the textbook's title so rightly was. 

Parvati suddenly let out an exclamation which brought Trelawney running over. "I see it! I see it!"

"What is it, my girl? What do you see? Can you interpret it?"

Lavender tugged at Parvati's arm. "Come on, tell us what you saw!"

She took a deep breath, shoulders still heaving in what could have been laughter or sobs. "It- it looked like Sir Cadogan- and-" 

Lavender started to shake her. "It couldn't have been _that_ bad!"

Parvati looked up at her, eyes filled with tears. "Sir Cadogan has a tattoo! It's the most detailed thing-" she hiccoughed and tried to breathe again. 

"Are you _laughing_?" Lavender asked.

Professor Trelawney shook her head slowly. "It's so sad to see them go so young." The two girls looked at her. "I've seen this before- the sight drives a girl mad before her training is complete. I believe that you should drop divination, my dear- before the situation becomes irreversible."

"But it's true! I really saw it!" Parvati protested. "I'm not mad!"

"Don't be silly, dear- whoever heard of a painting having a tattoo?" The professor patted Parvati's shoulder lightly. "I imagine it must be a bit of a shock to you, but don't worry. I'll speak with Professor McGonagall, and she'll place you somewhere where you won't need to be so stressed."

"He really does! I saw him! On him!" 

Lavender nodded sadly over at Professor Trelawney, then led the still protesting Parvati out of the room and to the stepladder. "Don't worry about it Parvati, some people just have more trouble than others. You'll find something else to do!" 

"You don't understand! I really saw it!" 

Their voices echoed down the hall.

****

A/N: Okay, that was a bit unexpected. I had no idea that the paintings were so vain! And Sir Cadogan- well, I must admit, I'm certainly shocked! Whatever _is_ that tattoo? 

Isn't Trelawney a dork? (Okay, maybe not a dork, but...) I can just see her hustling everyone who is the slightest threat to her all-seeing power away. 

Harry/Ginny sweetness. I like that pairing, but then, I like a lot of them. This one is a lot of fun to write, though. 

Thanks to Harry Potter, my reviewer! I really appreciate it!

Tah!


	8. Your wand account is now -

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Disclaimer: They are not mine out here, but in my head... the plot is mine, please don't take it. 

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A/N: To my shock and dismay, caffinated is not a word, but I'm using it anyway. Apologies to anyone who finds that exceptionally annoying, and even to the people who it irritates only a little. I was anything but well caffinated when I wrote this, so- I think I need to go to sleep. Instead, I'm writing. I'm not a very smart person.

Ron sighed. He'd just about used up all of his hard earned credits, and hadn't gotten even a sip of the elusive Pepsi. It seemed that all of the luck was against him; no one else was having such troubles! Harry and Ginny continued to drink gallons of the caffinated liquid, and he couldn't get an ounce.

It had started with the disaster with Snape. Then he had seen Ginny and Harry kissing, and hadn't been able to do anything for some time. There had been the time that Dumbledore had come through the lounge singing 'I am a Gypsy Queen' and wearing a skirt just as he was about to drink- well, there weren't many people who hadn't dropped everything at that sight. 

__

The world is out to get me. I just know it. Oh, well, I guess it isn't that important, but still... Ron very, very carefully tip-toed over to the Pepsi machine. He surveyed everything around him for possible threats- his sister and Harry, Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape, Neville, (just because Neville always screws things up) and Professor Trelawney. No one was to be seen; in fact, the lounge was almost entirely empty.

The lack of a visible threat did not put Ron off his guard, though. He magicked a pair of ear-muffs so no noise would get through, and put any number of balance charms on himself. If you're going to do something right, do it obsessively-compulsively right!

He held up his wand, and a chip was transferred. 

"Your wand account is now - zero credits - please choose your drink," a mechanical voice droned. 

_Dumbledore does go all out for accuracy._ Of course, he didn't know that this was accurate from his own experiences, but, according to Hermione, the recorded messages were getting pretty common- not so much on pop machines, but in other areas of muggle life. Ron contemplated this for a moment, then got back to the task at hand. 

He reached out slowly and carefully, pausing to eye the room once more. The pads of his index and middle fingers rested gently on the Pepsi logo- and pushed. 

_So far, so good,_ he thought as the can clinked into the receptacle at the bottom. 

After a last look around, he reached down and picked up the can of syrupy liquid. It was cold and refreshing, even just lying in his hands. It took a bit of effort to work his finger under the tab so that he could pop the opening, but no magic was going to mar this. 

The can, which had most assuredly not been shaken, popped open very satisfyingly. Bubbles spritzed to the top and tickled Ron's nose as he leaned over.

"Ron! Ron! You've _got_ to see this! You'll never in a quadrillion years guess what we-" Dean's enthusiastic exclamation was cut off as Ron looked at him, horrified. 

"Get away! Get away! I don't want to see! Take it away!" He skittered backwards, Pepsi can held tightly against his chest, shying away from their attempts to show him- something. 

Seamus was faster, however, and thrust a picture under his nose. "You have to look!"

Ron couldn't help but look down. "Sir Cadogan? Why do I have to look at-" Yet another Pepsi can was discarded as Ron fell to the floor. 

*****  


Dumbledore stood in front of the painting, eyes twinkling away. "You do have to show me, if only so that I can believe it."

A flush spread across the knight's neck, and he hung his head.

"I assume that one of the more artistically able students did the honors?"

"Seventeen years ago- I was younger then. Had no idea that it would stay on me..."

"And now the paintings are pooling their winnings to have a touch-up artist come in?"

His head fell even lower. "Yes."

Dumbledore just smiled. "I've nothing against it. I'm just surprised that you want to get rid of so useful a weapon- the pure shock has made every witness to it faint. I don't care what you have done, so long as you show me the notorious picture."

Sir Cadogan looked at Dumbledore suspiciously. "Are you _sure_ that you want to see?"

The Headmaster nodded an enthusiastic affirmative, at which the knight sighed. "If you're sure..." 

He pulled the sleeve up.

Dumbledore had trained himself over the years to not be shocked by anything, and not even the Weasley twins' antics had tested him very much. This, however...

It was the very essence of a younger Snape, with a few minor changes. The hair, for one- brilliant pink, but otherwise perfectly rendered. The eyes- flecks of a demonic red danced about. Suddenly the magically moving image opened its eyes even wider, staring at Dumbledore- and it stuck its bright pink tongue out.

Ka-thunk.

"I knew it..." Sir Cadogan mumbled, looking down at the fallen man. "I knew it."

****

A/N: I've got a couple of things, other than my interminable rambling, but please read them.

This was a pretty short chapter; apologies, but I wanted to post something. I'll get more up probably by this Sunday, depending on how much sleep I get this Saturday...

At the top of this chapter I mentioned Dumbledore dancing through the halls singing. My band director did this at the end of the year, and it was quite possibly the funniest thing that I have ever seen. Just wanted to give credit where credit's due. 

You now know what Sir Cadogan's tattoo is; I hope that all of you are happy... I have to admit, it seemed like the anticipation was funnier than the actual unveiling, but perhaps that's just how I wrote it...

Thanks to **VyingQuill ** for two very exceptionally nice reviews- I very much appreciate it; **Harry** **Potter**, who I have turned to the dark side, (Hp/G) and **Sailor**-**Knight** **Shadowstar**: a Harry in denial is a very funny Harry; sometimes he can't see the forest for the trees. Or the other way around.

Anyway, every review is very much appreciated!

Tah!


	9. Sacrificial Socks

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Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. I recognize this fact. The plot does belong to me. Now, would you please let me out of this funny white jacket now? What are you doing? You're giving me medicine, _aren't_ you? I don't need no medicine! Nooooo!

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A/N: (and pointless ramblings...) I'm not sure when I'm going to post this, seeing as right now I have no idea what I'm going to be writing... hopefully it's today... but then, it's always today... I hope that it is Sunday, and, if not, my deepest apologies are offered up to any readers! (and it's not Sunday, so I do apologize. Hopefully it is worth the wait.)

The pile of books they had gone through had just about reached the library ceiling when Hermione came looking for Harry and Ginny. She frowned at the pair, who were oblivious to her entrance and continued flipping through pages of parchment with dazed looks permanently etched onto their faces. 

"Ginny? Ginny! Ginny, I need to talk with you!" Hermione finally gave up and walked over to the younger girl, giving her shoulders a shake. 

"What? What's going on?" Ginny cast around the room, searching for the cause of her awakening. 

Seeing this, Hermione took the witch's head in her hands, and turned it so that she was facing her. "Ginny. It's me. Hermione. I've come because neither you nor Harry has had anything except for Pepsi in the past two days, and you _need_ to eat _something_. Now! It's the weekend; you're supposed to get some sleep!" 

"Must. Beat. Snape."

Hermione ruthlessly shook her again. "You are going to wake Harry up, because goodness knows if I've ever been able to, and you _both_ are going to come down to the kitchens, eat, and go directly to sleep. If you don't I _will_ talk to Dumbledore, and he'll keep you out of the library for a week!"

"Don't. Have. A Week," Ginny said. "Debate. Friday. Must. Read." She tiredly batted away Hermione's hands, entirely ineffectively.

It was only at this that Hermione decided on the last resort. _Desperate times, desperate measures. I do feel kind of bad about this, but..._ "Ron! Get in here, please!"

"What is it, Hermione?" he called back from his watch outside the door.

"Just get in here!" Hermione pulled out her wand and levitated Ginny's body so that it was over Harry's, setting her gently down so that her head was on his lap. 

"What is it- HARRY!" Ron came in and saw them, just as they were, and blew a gasket.

At the sound of his best friend's voice, Harry's head snapped up. He blinked a couple of times, wearily, unconsciously smoothing Ginny's hair before he realized what he was doing- smoothing Ginny's hair, so conveniently spread over his legs.

"What is she-" Harry started, but was cut off by Hermione. 

"Good. Ron, I put them like that. Harry and Ginny would not wake up, but that was very effective. Harry, I want you to look at Ginny- she's lost weight, and so have you. You need to get some food, and some sleep, and now!"

This was not the voice Hermione usually had with her friends; this was her unruly first years who need a talking to from a prefect voice. They all listened, Ginny stirring and blinking in the direction of the buzzing noise. 

"There are six days until the debate, and you are going to collapse if you don't rest! You have read everything that is _possibly_ pertinent twice, your notes are perfect, and, you've certainly become familiar enough with your information to present it well." Unfortunately, at some point during the lecture both had fallen asleep. She pretended not to notice. "Now," she said, pulling out her wand, "you are going to go to the kitchens." And she levitated them up with a quick snap of her wrist and a few words, leading them out of the library.

"That wasn't very nice, Hermione," Ron muttered. "I was about ready to jump Harry, there!"

"It was the quickest thing to do to get him somewhat cognizant. I want them to know what they're eating." 

"Well, I really need to talk to Harry! Since I - _fell_- this morning, I haven't had a chance to tell him about Cadogan's tattoo."

"You fainted, Ron."

"I did not! It was just a slight fall, because of the shock!"

"The facts still remain; you fainted, and I didn't."

"Whatever," Ron muttered grumpily.

Hermione grinned, chanced a glance behind her to check that the pair were well set, and blanched. The lead spells had been very carefully set apart, but the two had still managed to wind up entangled.

Ron started to turn his head. "What are you looking at, Mione?" 

She went paler still, forcibly yanking the leads to separate them. Ron would not be happy if he saw this...

He turned back to their path without glimpsing them, saying with a laugh, "I guess that I should watch where we're going, since you aren't. They're out cold, anyway; I don't think that anything that I could have done would have woken them more than for a few seconds."

"Oh- um, _thank_ you, Ron," Hermione forced out. _They will not come apart- they're stuck! Oh, no... If Ron sees this and tries to get them..._

He turned around, having stopped at an intersection of halls. "I forgot to ask... Where are we going? To check if anyone is still around in the Great Hall, or the lounge, or the kitchens? - And where are they?" 

Hermione ducked out of a very convenient slight door that she had jumped into and back into the hallway, leaving Harry and Ginny to follow out of sight. "Slight detour- now turn back around, I want to get them to the kitchens right away."

"Whatever you say, Mione. I know that _you _aren't trying to hide anything from me."

*****

The house elves were in a right state, preparing dish after dish for their greatly loved Headmaster (who was still recovering up in his room after coming to with surprising difficulty). He had been heard to mutter, "I don't believe it... I don't believe it..."

Platters were filled with meats, fruits, vegetables, breads, and dairies, but the majority of them were buried under (the only remaining food group, I think...) sweets. All kinds of sweets, kept in a special store for Dumbledore and regularly refilled. It had to be refilled regularly, and by regularly it is meant every other day, considering the rate he went through them. 

Muggle and magical, treats of all kinds were found. Snickers, treacle, lemon drops, chocolate frogs, cockroach clusters, and even the occasional canary cream; "To keep me on my toes," a smiling Dumbledore had kindly explained to the wide-eyed head-elf.

Needless to say, Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny did not get the usual all-willing welcome usually given. They were appraised by the now aged head-elf, who had learned what was up and what was down, and who knew that these four had the support of Dumbledore. They were each apportioned an elf.

"Master Potter! It be Master Potter and his Wheezy! Oh, sir!" Dobby rushed towards the group, going straight past Ron (who had stepped up importantly as 'Master Potter's Wheezy') and instead going straight towards the sleeping but thankfully separated debating partners. 

He shook them slightly. "Master Potter? Is you coming to see Dobby? Where is you, sir? Where is you?" he asked shaking them each a little harder.

"Dobby," Hermione intervened, "give them some rest. We want to pick up some food, and then get them up to bed." She ignored Ron, who was kicking the floor at the slight Dobby had given him.

"Of course!" Dobby cried, wide-eyed. "I knows that they have been working so I made thems a- a- a good-luck charm!" He held out two matching wool socks, both bright, garish orange with the unmistakable silhouettes of Ginny and Harry, lips barely touching. "Would you be giving them to them, when theys be waking up?"

Hermione looked at the design, and tried not to laugh. "Of course, Dobby. I won't forget," she reassured. _ Might have a bit more trouble trying to keep Ron from burning them, though..._

Ron, who had not yet seen the pattern, looked at Dobby in surprise. "Why are there two matching ones, Dobby?"

"Why, there be one for each, sir! Because they is a team!"

"That is entirely too true. Let me look at them, Hermione?" he asked, holding out his hands.

*****

"Ron, I already told you, you are not allowed to use the socks as fire-starters. Find something else- all that parchment that you _didn't_ use on your three-foot long charms essay?"

"Hermione, you don't understand." Ron had nearly given up the argument, which had continued as they left the kitchens, took the seven-course dinner, Harry, and Ginny, up to their common rooms, settled the sleepers comfortably (and several couches away from each other) and ate themselves, when he got a brilliant idea. 

"I know! You don't have to consider it a funeral pyre, how about a sacrificial burning? To show how much we are willing to give up in support of them!"

Hermione just looked at him. 

"Or, not."

"You bet it's 'or, not', Ron. They're not yours, you know. We'll give them to them, and they'll probably wear them. You have no right to change that. I will give you one concession, however..."

"Well? What is it?" Ron asked impatiently.

"You can show them the pictures of Cadogan's tattoo. The looks on their faces will more than make up for everything else, and, who knows- they might faint like you did!" Hermione giggled, unable to look Ron in the eyes.

"I did _not_ faint!" He scowled at her, but couldn't keep a straight face either. "It will be funny. I'll show them the pictures, you make sure you've got your camera ready!"

****

A/N: There, that was longer. I feel better now. Anyway, tra-la-la:

Thanks to **Harry Potter**- I'm glad you like my interesting Snape. Snape just seems to be begging for some hair-color change, but maybe that's just me- and the anonymous reviewer- I like the tattoo too. Or something like that. 

Many thousands of thanks!

Tah!


	10. Lemons Drop

****

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, his associates, or the world in which he lives. That honor belongs to J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. and I assure you that I have no desire to infringe upon their rights as owners. 

****

A/N: Sorry it took so long. Motivation was slow in coming, but did come. I've got a direction, and can see the end being five/six chapters away- so long as I don't come up with something else filling up space. 

It was two days before the esteemed Headmaster was returned entirely to his senses by whatever evil spirits had whisked him away. He awoke suddenly, sputtering nonsense syllables, and surrounded by the head house-elf, Poppy Pomfrey, Minerva McGonagall, Nearly-Headless Nick, and a giant, floating lemon drop. Everything was as normal. (Other than the fact that Sir Nicholas and the lemon drop seemed to not be getting on as well as they usually did.)

Dumbledore smiled to himself at their comments. 

"Why you big sour-ball! How dare you behave so! And on the deathbed of our own beloved headmaster, Professor Dumbledore himself!"

"Why, you can take that attitude and stick it somewhere!" The lemon drop imparted in the manner by which giant, floating lemon drops impart things. It is, I believe, unique to them.

Dumbledore turned his head to the ghost, ignoring completely the protests from the three living beings. "Sir Nicholas, I regret to inform you that I am not on my deathbed, nor plan to be at any time soon. Your friend, the lemon drop there, assures me of it. You see, it was foretold by our own Professor Trelawney that upon the break of the day which I am to die a gigantic Twinkie will hover above the Hogwarts towers; not a lemon drop."

The three who had continued to protest stopped at this. "Poppy," Minerva muttered to the mediwitch, "Are you _sure_ he's all right?"

The witch nodded solemnly. "He speaks the same way whenever he wakes from a faint or shock- always it is the lemon drops. I fear..."

Dumbledore, exhibiting exceptional timing, chose this moment to sit up.

"I fear," he said, eyes twinkling merrily, "I have forgotten the reason for my faint. If you would break it to me gently, perhaps?"

The trio exchanged glances. Showing remarkable state-of-mind, the head-elf said, slowly, "Sir, you is fainting. You is fainting, sir, when you is seeing a- picture. Sir Cadogan, sir, Sir Cadogan has a- a- a tattoo!"

To their relief, Dumbledore did not seem to require any more prompting. The memory, only partially blocked, flowed back to him before their very eyes. 

"Oooh- _sweet!_" the lemon drop whistled at the image of the tattoo which Dumbledore projected on his wide forehead.

"Shut up!" Sir Nicholas hissed, batting the image away.

This time Dumbledore ignored their antics, his expression suddenly serious. "The tattoo... oh, Merlin!"

He sat straight, pushing the covers aside and making to stand up. The efforts of Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall to prevent him were perfunctory at best, and he waved them aside briskly. "I'm perfectly all right, but I must- I must-"

The Headmaster stopped and looked straight into Minerva's eyes. "The touch-up artist hasn't been yet, has he?" he asked anxiously.

"No, no, but what on earth are you on about _that_ for?"

The two women trailed behind Dumbledore, asking question after unanswered question. Their efforts continued un-rewarded, as the man seemed to be mainly concerned in making his way to his office as quickly as humanly possible.

He swept in after muttering, "Lemon Drops," and headed directly to the bookshelves.

"Oh! How sweet! Your password is chosen for me! I feel so special- so loved- so-"

"Shove it, sugar drop."

"That's lemon drop, you pimsy half-beheaded dwit. Get it right!"

As a magnet is drawn to its opposite so Dumbledore was drawn to a section of the shelves. He thumbed through page after page, going through book after book but always returning them to their place.

"Albus... Albus? Albus, is there something in particular that you are looking for?"

"Yes... Yes, but I'm not finding it. Lemon, find me Hermione Granger. I shall need her help, I daresay- might as well bring the other three, as well. And Sir Cadogan- you can find him, Nick."

"Lemon?" McGonagall got out finally. 

Poppy shook her head. "I'm not sure. He's always like that."

"Lemon? After all these years you can only think to call me _lemon_? I have a name, you know- but you've never bothered to find out, have you? _Have_ you? I didn't think so. Hmmph!" He - for lemon drops are very specific about their gender - huffed off, prodded only slightly by a miffed Sir Nicholas.

*****

Harry and Ginny awoke simultaneously. They looked first to each other, smiling sweetly, and then up, where they saw not the red and gold checkered ceiling of the Gryffindor commons room, but - 

"What do you want, Ron?" Harry asked resignedly.

"And you, Hermione?" Ginny added.

"Oh, I'm just here for the show!" Hermione said, pertly. "You all have been out for about sixteen hours, and I imagine that you're both rather hungry, but first, Ron has something to show you. You've missed rather a lot, you know!" She smiled brightly and pulled out a wizard's camera. "Ready, Ron!"

The red-head smirked, then whipped out a gigantic print of the now infamous tattoo. He held it out in front of him, directly in front of the pair, and waited expectantly.

"What on earth?!" Ginny screamed as the camera flashed. Harry looked stunned.

"See, _they _didn't faint!" Hermione said smugly. 

She was interrupted by Ginny, who pointed somewhere over both of their shoulders. "What is that?"

*****

Life as a lemon drop is not as easy as one might think, especially when you're the product of Albus Dumbledore's vastly creative mind. He doesn't come up with _normal_ lemon drops- no, any lemon drops who spring from Dumbledore's imagination have issues beyond _Am I sour enough?_ and _Am I too sour?_

The poor lemon drop wasn't sure what its issues were, but it knew that it had them. Many of them.

When not annoying the pimsy Sir Nick, a quite amusing target in himself, or flitting through the headmaster's office, he usually spent his time annoying the various paintings. They said that he left a sticky aftertaste in his wake; he didn't really care.

And then there were the times that he contemplated his issues. There was no Mrs. Lemon Drop, indeed, there wasn't even a girlfriend in the picture. Life as a lemon drop can be a sad, sad life. With no close companions of the same - species, of sorts - all that was left was to contemplate the meaning of life. 

That never got very far.

Now he was off to find a Hermione Granger, and her little friends, because Albus was afraid that, through a complex combination of image and ritual magic, someone's soul had been compromised. 

_He can contemplate the spiritual levels of various peoples souls at the same time that he is running a school for magical creatures while a war is going on, but can't come up with a dame for me?_

The lemon drop was not impressed.

****

A/N: All right, a bit crazy at times... but I liked it... and it is actually written... took me awhile, though... greatest apologies to everyone... this is probably getting really annoying... oh, well... thanks to my dear friend, EvilFireWitch... read her stories, they're awesome... yeah....

Tralatah!


	11. Those were the days

****

Disclaimer: These are not my characters. Harry Potter and the world in which he lives are the property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros., and I do not intend infringement upon their rights as such in any manner. The plot and the Hogwarts lounge _are_ mine.

****

A/N: Here it is... another chapter of what is becoming a rather longer story than I had ever imagined myself writing. Funnier, too. To me, anyway. And I hope to you, too.

Severus Snape glared at his mirror. He wished with all his heart--which admittedly wasn't all that hard-- that it would glare back. 

It didn't.

Albus Dumbledore's sense of humor was remarkable in it's aptitude for finding the right place to hit and hit hard- he knew exactly what would get the greatest rise out of a person, and thus provide him the greatest enjoyment.

Like the mirror.

It talked, it reflected, and most of all, is was an extreme extrovert.

Being placed in Severus Snape's room was torture.

"Come on, sunshine, lets see a smile! You know you want to, yes you do! I can see it in your sparkling eyes.... Come on, everybody, let's dance! Kick off your shoes, get into some nice floral prints..."

Glass would have shattered if Dumbledore hadn't been so very well prepared for such an attack - the number and strength of shatterproof charms on the mirror were enough to stop even Snape, and goodness knows he put some power into it.

"Hey! Watch my finish - I'll have you know that I'm an original product of the Potiri Corporation, and you should treat me with a bit more respect! I can talk! I can tell a joke! I can color-coordinate!"

Snape glared, growled, and stalked off to go terrorize someone who would cry.

"So sad..." the mirror muttered. "I wonder what made him turn out so evil... and such a fashion ignorant... Black is so out."

Surprisingly enough, someone was at that very minute contemplating what made the dastardly Professor Snape be so dastardly.

"I never would have thought..." Albus Dumbledore muttered to himself. "I never would have thought... I hope we can find a cure...."

*****  


Both Ron and Hermione sprang around, squinting in an attempt to see what their friends had spotted. They were unsuccessful.

"Ginny, are you feeling all right? I mean, I imagine seeing the tattoo was a bit of a shock, and it might just be a side-effect of that; because we certainly don't see anything, do we, Ron? I mean, there's just that lemon banner that Dumbledore put up when he was Head of Gryffindor."

"Hermione..." Ginny muttered softly, "_Look_ at the lemon banner."

"It's... It's... _alive!_" Harry sputtered.

"Come on, Harry, what're you on? There's nothing th-"

"No, Ron, wait... Look..." 

He turned at Hermione's words, looking into the previously empty space.

Before you harshly judge Ron, poor man, please remember that some say those who have fainted once are more susceptible for awhile. And he's rather low on sleep, and... well, it could be that, or he could just be an intolerable wussy. Choose to believe whatever you wish.

"Oh, bloody, bloody, _bloody_, blood... Harry, help me get him on the couch, will you?"

As he facilitated Hermione in gently setting Ron on the couch, Harry appeared to be thinking very hard. "Hermione, did Ron happen to faint when he saw the tattoo?" 

"Yes... why does that matter?" she asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"Why, then, he's been made more susceptible to spurts of fainting for little or no reason! That, and he's been low on sleep recently, and... well, you know." Harry trailed off, still triumphant because Ron was obviously not a coward.

"I think he's just an intolerable wussy," Ginny said, but, as this was the exact moment that the lemon drop chose to speak, Harry had no chance to respond.

"Excuse me... I see that you're having a terribly important discussion, but, snob as I am, I think that this could be more important."

They all stopped talking and looked up at the giant candy - except for Ron, or course.

"Dumbledore requires your presence, Miss Granger, and requests that of your friends, as well... I believe you can leave _him_ here," he added, nodding in the way only lemon drops can nod at the prone figure of Ron, on the red and gold couch. 

Hermione looked over at him and sighed. "I guess it would be better if we leave Ron here, he just hasn't been up to the kind of shocks which Dumbledore is likely to provide. Poor apple-honey bear," she murmured, kissing his forehead. 

Ginny looked away in disgust, instead asking the lemon drop, "So. Where are we supposed to go?"

"Follow me," he said, seeming to laugh without physically changing at all. He left abruptly through the portrait door, conveniently lying open. 

*****

Dumbledore was sitting quietly in his private study - an offshoot of his office which few were lucky enough to see - when he heard the unmistakable voice of Lemon. 

"Yes, well, Dumbledore couldn't have beat Gridlewald without _my_ help - I've been there through it all, since the very day that the great man himself was born on a mountain in the Alps... Oh, those were the days..."

Hermione, Harry and Ginny were looking skeptically at the giant floating lemon when Dumbledore's merry voice boomed into his office.

"And every word of it's true... those _were_ the days, weren't they..."

The trio turned their skeptical gazes on Dumbledore, suddenly realized that they were questioning the great Headmaster, and adjusted so that they appeared respectful yet unconvinced.

Dumbledore, of course, noticed this and got back to business. "I fear that I will need you to turn your attention away from the debate, and towards a more serious problem." He ignored their now outraged looks, and continued, "I believe all of you have seen Sir Cadogan's tattoo? Yes? Then you may have guessed what I have come to believe."

Hermione Granger looked intently at him, eyebrows raised. 

"Miss Granger, you obviously have some idea. I will expand upon it. Please, sit down?" He gestured at three empty chairs, setting himself behind the desk. The lemon contented himself with floating gently above Dumbledore's head.

"Let us begin."

****

A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long; regular life is eating up my time... I'll try to have the next chapter out much sooner. 

Thanks go out to my reviewers! Vingoldust, Harry Potter, and EvilFireWitch. 

Peace to all!


	12. Once upon a midnight, dreary

****

Disclaimer: These are not my characters. Harry Potter and the world in which he lives are the property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros., and I do not intend infringement upon their rights as such in any manner. The plot and the Hogwarts lounge _are_ mine.

WPRITUAL magic has been left largely unrefined, and as such is extremely dangerous. The channels that confine and direct other forms of magic do not limit the ritual magics, and as such it can be mistakenly or even unknowingly used. According to a study conducted by the Wizarding National Institute for the Dissection and Discussion of Life, etc., etc., this is one of the greatest dangers to the population. "Ritual magic can destroy lives, faster than you can say WNFTDADOF," one top WNFTDADOF researcher said. Of course, that isn't very fast at all, but it is also beside the point. Politicians are moving quickly to rectify this terrifying situation.

*****

"There are many goings-on in this school of which I am unaware. It would be impossible to know every detail, every little smidgen of activity - and so, I don't. That said, I did hear of something, fifteen years ago, but did not think it important enough to truly register. I fear I have made a terrible mistake..."

Hermione looked at the Headmaster with interest. There were any number of things going through her mind, most of them centered around Dumbledore's omnipotence; though she was also decoding a particularly challenging arithmancy problem that had been annoying her for a few days.

"Ritual magic is an iffy area, often misunderstood and thus misused. As it was." The twinkle, which had dwelled continuously in the dear Headmaster's eyes since the debate was announced, had dimmed considerably. This was serious. 

*****

They stood in a semi-circle, shoulder to shoulder, denying any a view of what was within. Candles flickered on the walls, the moon passed behind a wisp of a cloud, and prefects prowled the halls - all in all, regardless of what they were doing, they were not supposed to be doing it; at least not at that time of night.

Four heads-- two bushes of black hair, one of a well-combed brown, and finally a long blondish-red--peered anxiously at what hung upon the wall. 

"Padfoot, are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?"

"Shove it, Moony, before you're out of the circle. I need to concentrate... humph..." Paint spots smudged his cheeks, forehead, arms, and, amazingly enough, the back of his neck. Sirius Black was not one to go at anything half-heartedly, least of all if it was an artistic endeavor of his. 

"Honestly, though, his eyebrows look a bit bushier than normal..." The lone brunette cringed as Sirius carefully set down his paint brush, and glowered menacingly in his direction. 

"If you want to criticize, I advise you to do it from a distance. Moony. All right?" He picked up his brush, rubbed it cherishingly, and went back to work. 

The blonde poked the silent black-haired boy, and nodded over in Moony's direction. They smothered simultaneous laughs, as he looked cautiously in Sirius' direction, and resumed muttering comments under his breath. 

"Remus is far too much a perfectionist for his own good..."

"I can't believe we haven't managed to cure him of that, in all these seven years." Peter sighed as Sirius stopped painting. "Oh, come along, Padfoot - you'd think it were the bloody Mona Lisa. Just get on with it!"

"It's got to be perfect. I just know, I can make it perfect... so I've got to do it."

This was a bit too insightful for the three onlookers, who fell silent at his words. 

The quiet was short-lived, however; Sirius spoke up again, though this time it was to someone else entirely. 

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you've got to quit moving! I can't do this if you fidget..."

This earned a decided snort from the knight, who sat with his arm held out on a table. "I'd like to see you sit still this long, a troublemaker as yourself - so don't talk."

Sirius shook his head and went on with the picture, carefully compensating when Cadogan chose to move. "I'm done. I'm done, and it _is_ perfect..."

"Let us see, then!"

"First, Wormtail, the spell--you have it?"

"Of course--did you think I hadn't? Move over."

Padfoot stepped away from the wall, and let Wormtail take his place. 

"Wormtail! Stop laughing, you've got to get the spell in place--the Prefects will only stay away so long, you know how strict they are! We're lucky we got them to agree to avoid us for this long."

"Or rather, you got them to avoid us, Prongs." 

"A perk, Moony, a perk. Now, get on with it!"

"Get on with what, James? Because your time was up awhile ago."

"Lily! You've no idea how happy I am to see you..."

"And _you_ have no idea how happy I'll be when I see whatever you're trying to hide back there. Come on, Sirius, Remus, Peter--if it's funny enough, I'll let you get away with just a couple of points deducted."

_"Hurry, Peter," _Remus whispered urgently. 

"Um... I can't remember the last part! I've got it written down..."

"You don't have time! Make something up!"

"Um... Vivechela Pictaralma!"

"Peter, I can hear you. Now, get out here!"

"Yes, Lily," Peter said, somewhat morosely, but, in an aside to the knight, he whispered, "_Run. Or ride--just get away!"_

Lily looked upon the painting they had been hunched so intently around, and saw--nothing. Nothing was there, not a thing out of place. She eyed the three boys, and James, suspiciously. "There's nothing there, at least not now, so you'll just have to tell me all about it. Won't you?"

They looked at each other. 

"Are you sure you want to know?"

*****

"Obviously, the spell was wrong. Surprising, since Peter was our top Charms student of the time... of course, that only meant that the miss-spell was very strong, very strong indeed. Strong enough to take from the life-force and essential being of another, the object of the spell. 

"Painters of moving pictures go through extensive training, and years of it. It is a most difficult task, for, in each picture, a bit of the painter's soul must be added, to give the subjects their intelligence, humor, and life. Artists are taught how to extract a part of the soul, a part that will not cripple them, but still, they can never have long careers. There is only so much of the soul that can be lost without madness or death. 

"Peter, unfortunately, was not trained in this art. He unknowingly took a part of Severus Snape's soul that should never be lost--the part which is represented in Sir Cadogan's fine tattoo. The fun, the wildness... And without them, Professor Snape _has_ been severely crippled. Luckily, I think I know of a way to return it to him--but I will need your help, Miss Granger. You have a similar talent in Charms to Peter, and your strength would be greatly appreciated."

"Of course, Headmaster." She looked up with determination in her eyes. "When shall we begin?"

****

A/N: I've changed one thing, in chapter 8. One word. Unfortunately, I did not think about that word carefully enough. I hope you don't get hanged up upon that one word; I honestly didn't mean to cause any trouble... I'm sorry if it causes any. 

Many thanks to my reviewers; I hope you will enjoy this chapter! Also, apologies for the time it took to get it out!

****

Miss Trisana Granger: I agree, the lemon drop is scary... and worst of all, I have no idea where he came from! 

****

Blue eyes: Very glad you think it's funny; hope this chapter is slightly funny, as well--it didn't really turn out as funny as the others have been... 

****

Isadora: Glad you like, especially the lemon drop. The poor thing, created out of Albus Dumbledore's mind... 


	13. When the ladies come acalling

****

Disclaimer: These are not my characters. Harry Potter and the world in which he lives are the property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros., and I do not intend infringement upon their rights as such in any manner. The plot and the Hogwarts lounge _are_ mine.

****

A/N: Word of warning, this is a rather darker chapter than the rest of the story. It's sliding from humor into... well... something else. I've got a couple of ideas for stories set in the same universe, but different... anyway, I'll try to get back into the humor, as the muse allows. Thanks!

"Um... It's going to be very difficult. But you already knew that... And it'll be even worse if he is unwilling, which, knowing the professor, he will be..." Her forehead was scrunched up in the stereotypical puzzled scholarly frown, eyes closed and lips pursed. "But why do you say I am similar to Pettigrew?"

"Peter," he rejoined, and continued, "Because it's true. You two are very much alike... Very much alike. It was the actions of one man that turned Peter into the 'rat' whom you know, but I imagine that Sirius, when he's not enflamed with the rage of injustice, could tell you some tales..." 

There is a look to man as he is slowly lost in memory, and such was the look of Albus Dumbledore. Hermione respectfully said, "I'll go to the library then. There ought to be something, I just have to find it. Sir."

The three left softly, leaving the Headmaster to reminisce. 

*****

A man grief-stricken is never a fair target; Lord Voldemort, however, has never paid mind to the rules of etiquette. He initiated an action, and followed through with it. He always did.

*****

There are few things more painful than losing a spouse, as Peter Pettigrew could easily attest. Unfortunately, he had experienced some of them, as well. Grief will drive a man from his morals, hoping for a miracle. Unfortunately, true miracles never come cloaked in darkness.

*****

Charms were never one of Voldemort's strong points, not that he would let anyone realize that. He needed a strong wizard, well-versed in charms and more ambitious than most. He wanted the best that Hogwarts had to offer--so long as they were pure in blood, of course. Lucius Malfoy was more than happy to supply him one. 

*****

It bore a striking resemblance to a scene but some days before; however, it was now Hermione languishing over piles of parchment, pausing only to take a strengthening snack. She attacked each new chapter with hope, vigor, and relentlessness, searching for something... anything. Unfortunately, paintings were rarely, if ever, changed after their initial awakening. A tattoo, as in Sir Cadogan's case, was seen as rather barbaric, a form of cannibalism unique to moving paintings. 

She knew that there had to have been something, something upon which the Marauders had based their disastrous prank. Some passage, some reference, something like... 

Something like "A Memoir of an Escapade Gone Wrong, Recalling the 'Period of Disarray' Surrounding an Ill-Fated Attempted Change in Decor."

It would have to be something like that.

This particular book held short essays decrying the stupidity of several ancestors; it was a moral book, of sorts, describing in detail series of events so as to shy the pranksters of the time away from certain, more damaging ideas. Hermione figured it had, in fact, had the opposite affect, as it did upon the Marauders.

She glanced at the page, decided that ye olde English would add nothing to the story, and cast a quick "Vernaculorous." _That's better, much better... now, on to the story._

*****

Dude, like, once upon a time there was, like, this dude, who was, like, so crickish you can't believe it! No, I mean it, there's like no way that there's a dude as crickish as he! Anyways, this crickish-dude decided he needs some action, like, now! So he does all this boring stuff, like with books, and paper, and stuff, and gets a spell, and he like, practices on his dog! And, like, the poor dog was, like, so sad! This dude was not the sharpest crayon in the toolbox, y'know? Or the sharpest knife in Caesar's back, or any of those messed up 'liturury' things, similes, or metaphors, or sentences- but he wasn't cool, man! There was a total lack of coolness around this dude. We're talking major lack-age. There was, like, a black hole, or some weird space term, y'know what I mean? Just this 'black hole' of anti-coolness, all around this dude. 

*****

_Wrong spell. Definitely the wrong spell... dude... _Hermione shuddered, and cleared her mind, concentrating only on the syllables and their emphasis and pronunciation. 

"Vernacularous!" 

Seeing as this did not look like the script from a movie costarring a skateboarder and a valley girl, Hermione began again.

*****

There is a difficulty in outlining the events of the past for future generations. Therefore, I will not attempt to guess what modes of entertainment you have, whether Quidditch has already replaced Qualish, whether you still play 'throw-the-book-through-the ghost,' or even whether you use such 'out-dated' things as books, for I am willing to assume that you still have mistakes--and soup. This was a rather drastic one (a mistake, that is), committed by one of the more foolish of the previous court. There is no question that he should not have been allowed to procreate, yet, that was apparently his most ardent wish. He would ensnare a lady new to court, her ears untouched by warnings of him, or perhaps a muggle, or one of mixed birth--no self-respecting pure-blood would have him.

Despite his extreme efforts, he remained un-attached, and so decided to do something drastic. Before the young lass he was then attached to first came to his house for an evening sup, he decided that a change in decoration was necessary. Thus, to each painting, he added a small picture of the girl, rather like the symbol magics known to the aborigines. It was a moving picture on a moving picture, in every respect similar to the lady. One would think that he should have concentrated on developing his artistic abilities, rather than accentuating his lack of the wit required in court. 

With each "Vivechela Pictarala" another painting sported the smiling face of his chosen lass, smiling slyly, sensuously, sparkingly. This, of course, posed a rather problem when the girl, seeing him for the true cad that he was, denied him her heart and went off to marry a rather more sensible baron. 

*****

Here followed a rather boring series of lectures upon the lineage of said baron, and his superb qualities. Hermione skipped it, but, as a responsible researcher, felt obliged to check further in the text for any other possible information, though she was certain that the Marauders of before hadn't been near so thorough. 

It paid off. Truly. 

*****

As symbol magics unknowingly used often are, this was rather a more complex charm than it should have been. A future idol of the fool misused the charm grossly, adding a letter to attack the soul of the 'victim.' He sapped at the very soul of the girl that he had targeted, further proving the reason behind the Ministries banning of wizarding portraits--thus requiring Michelangelo to paint his Mona Lisa in the muggle way... not that there hasn't been some debate over the truth of that. 

*****

And that was that. 

****

Many thousand thanks to Blue Eyes. I hope this chapter is okay!!!


	14. Aloha

****

Disclaimer: Let's get this over with. I do not own this Harry Potter. I do not own his alma mater. I do not own the world he walks. I do not own dear Dobby's socks. Of what I own there isn't much: the Hogwart's lounge, and plot as such. 

****

A/N: Ladedahdeedledah....

Black. And black. And some more black, just for effect. In fact, there was only one thing within Severus Snape's closet that _wasn't_ black: the cheery Hawaiian print Dumbledore had insisted on inserting. It, when removed from the closet, immediately sprang to clothe the person removing it--Snape--and, when taken off, sprang right back into the closet. 

There was no way to destroy it, short of bringing someone else into his private rooms and forcing them to wear it eternally. That wasn't going to happen. No one entered the rooms of Severus Snape.

*****  


The mystery was solved. Hermione was certainly not so fond of criticizing that she could not see how Peter could very easily mistake a spell, but had it had to be this one? One that sapped at the soul of a man, and had done so for some seventeen years--no wonder Bill and Charlie Weasley hadn't had so bad a time of it during Potions; Snape had been a bit more himself. It was slowly becoming apparent that 'himself' was not as bad as they all had though.

The release of the spell, assuming that they could find a way to reverse it, would, by all measures, send the soul matter back into their esteemed potions professor in a great lump. His reaction to it, and there would be a reaction, would be very interesting--not that it was something that she wanted to see. Dumbledore, however, would most likely think differently. 

_At least we won't have to get his permission to perform the spell... he can't be in his right mind by any wizarding standard, and so we have an obligation to return it to him--bar the arguments of his relatives. _For some reason, it was extremely difficult for Hermione to think of Snape having relatives. The idea of other Snape's, terrorizing the magical population, bearing potions and black cloaks... but then, she didn't really know what the estimable man had been like before the terrible tattoo. _And I don't really want to find out..._

*****

Ron stood next to the fireplace, looking down at the wizard's chess set that he and Harry had sat at so often. 

"Ron?" Ginny's voice came down the stairway. "Ron, you've got to go to bed. Hermione will be back soon enough."

He blushed, and looked down at his feet. 

"Ron? What's wrong?"

He blushed even more fiercely, reached into his pocket, and pulled out... a pair of socks.

"Here. They're from... Dobby. Mione wouldn't let me burn them... Not even for good luck."

Ginny walked down the stairs, a smile growing as she neared Ron and was more able to see what he was holding. "Oh, my..."

"Yes, well... I figure you should wear them. As a token of Dobby's support, if nothing else." He held them out between his index finger and thumb, turning away from them, and her.

She took them from him, and jumped on him, trading a giant hug for the rather scandalous socks. "Thank you, Ron. I'll tell Harry."

"I thought I would, when I went up to bed... He _is_ in the dorm, isn't he? Isn't he?"

Ginny just giggled.

*****

Lavender Brown, now alone in her Divination devotion, sat peering into the crystal ball. 

"Well, my dear? Have you seen anything new?"

"I think... I think I'm picking up on _something..._ It... It looks like.... Snape!" Her eyes lit up in the exhilaration of a sight in sight.

"Yes? What is it?" Trelawney bent over Lavender's shoulder; though she was unable to see what the intent girl saw, she offered 'moral support.'

"I think... There's a cloud coming down upon him... A cloud of pink and red, glitter and shimmer... An odd sort of magic, descending upon him... And he's unaware of it, he doesn't see a thing, just like it's a part of him... It's settling, settling all over him, fading into him..."

"Professor Snape? _Severus_ Snape? Are you _sure_?" Trelawney was now backing away, an eyebrow raised as far as the cake of magical make-up allowed. 

"Yes... and now... he's _smiling..._"

Lavender sat, still, watching the scene unfold. The Divination professor, however, was digging into a cupboard, shaking her head. "There must be something in the air," she muttered to herself. "Two in one week, I can't imagine. Must be something in the air." Had the goodly professor dared venture from her lair, she doubtless would have heard of the truth to Parvati's vision; however, she had never been a very mobile addition to the Hogwarts staff..

Trelawney pulled out what looked like a Muggle spray bottle, and headed back to where Lavender was detailing more and more of the vision. 

"I'm ever so sorry, dear, but you'll have to go... I mean, really, Snape? Smiling? Perhaps you can find Patil, and form a support group of some sort; anyway, you'll have to find a different class. Once again, McGonagall will be glad to help you. Now, move along! I've some cleaning to do." She began attacking the air with whatever was in the spray bottle, apparently trying to rid her room of the demons that were driving so many promising students crazy.

Lavender, her protests ignored, went on to the trapdoor and down the silver stepladder. _Hmm... ! Maybe Trelawney really is a fraud, after all, I know that I saw what I saw..._ She left with designs on forming a group of true seers, to pass on their knowledge to the Hogwarts students supposedly under Trelawney's care--a way to make sure that some; those with the true sight; found the reality of seeing--not the garbage that the professor spewed. Call it an epiphany, of sorts... under any name, it was a truly amazing change of opinion. 

*****

Seamus and Dean, carrying as many various prank items as their hard-earned money would buy, snuck carefully past the patrolling prefects as they returned from an illicit trip to Hogsmeade. . 

"What do you think... a party so we can splurge, and get them all, or gradual build-up?"

The two took their reputation very seriously; they were the ones who stepped up at the graduation of Fred and George, and they weren't about to let anyone forget it.

"Let's go gradual. A party would be a bit too much of a hint if we gave it with no reason; they'd all be looking out for _something_."

"Yeah... A party _would _be fun, though. If we could think of a reason..."

They got past the Fat Lady and collapsed into puffy crimson chairs near the fire. 

"Why would we give a party..."

"Besides to prank them all..."

"Yes... That _is_ the question."

*****

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking on with interest as Hermione explained her findings and how they could be practically applied.

"Interesting... So, do we know how to reverse it?"

"I've got an idea, sir." She stopped pacing the room, and faced him, accepting the seat that he motioned her into. "It's kind of complicated, but I think that it might just work..."


	15. The return of a potions master

****

Disclaimer: Let's get this over with. I do not own this Harry Potter. I do not own his alma mater. I do not own the world he walks. I do not own dear Dobby's socks. Of what I own there isn't much: the Hogwart's lounge, and plot as such. See? I'm not even original in my disclaimer, just filching it from my last chapter. 

****

A/N: It's done... tear, tear. I think that even for this story it's a bit odd, but it's what happened when I sat down at the computer tonight... I'd meant to write some more chapters than this, but it was suddenly over, and I think it fits. Here you are: 

Enter Hermione Granger, stage left. Her costume was simple, black robes swishing stereotypically around a slender frame, brown, bushy hair restrained within a pointed black hat. A wand in her right hand, parchment in her left--she wasn't about to make the same mistake as her predecessor.

A watcher could dub those waiting in the darks of the dungeons 'quite a coven', if they were very unfamiliar with the term, or had some trouble making out the figures of all of the black-robed wizards.

Harry Potter stood next to Ginny Weasley, wondering quite what he was supposed to do--Hermione hadn't really _explained_ anything when she'd dragged them all down into the dank, black halls.

Ron, wary of interfering with his girlfriend when she was so intent, moved closer to Harry and Ginny. He looked at them for support, and--eyes wide--jumped back in shock. A warning glance from Hermione kept him silent for a second, but he finally burst. "WHEN IS THE _BLOODY_ BAT GOING TO GET HERE!?!"

Seamus and Dean marked the time, shaking their respective heads as they looked at the book.

Albus Dumbledore, familiar spectacles sported low on his nose, murmured a word of inquiry to Minerva McGonagall, who shrugged dramatically.

Lavender and Parvati obligingly looked into their respective crystal balls, much improved for venturing out from the rooms of Professor Trelawney.

The paintings sent out a searchers in all directions.

The lemon drop muttered at the human incompetence.

Hermione just glared at Ron.

"Why don't you just paint it in bloody neon pink? We're supposed to _surprise_ him, you--"

"Surprise me? How _sweet_," the Potions Master drawled. "Why, Albus? And Minerva, too? Is it my birthday?"

"Um-Um--Um, no, professor--it's--it's not your birthday-" Hermione stuttered under the glare of a truly angry man. 

"An ambush of some sort, then? A committee come to tell me of the horrors my Slytherin's have perpetrated upon Hogwart's? Or have I won a clearinghouse?"

She just shook her head.

"_Hermione,"_ Harry whispered urgently, below even Snape's exemplary hearing. "Hermione! The _spell_, Hermione, the spell!"

Severus continued on crushingly. "Well, as I've won no money, would you _please **get out of my dungeons!"**_

He threw his arms up as if to banish them from his site, and his robe sleeves fell down his arms. They fell down quite a distance, in fact, and it was only due to extremely good luck that they fell to reveal only one tattoo. 

Hermione concentrated all of her attentions on that tattoo, disregarding the parchment as she spoke the spell that they had determined would right a terrible wrong.

And it all went black.

**************************************************************************

Hermione finally regained her wits. She whispered a rather weak Lumos. Her light spread unaccountably, falling upon many a witch and wizard thrown back by the weight of the spell, and finally reaching a man lying prone in the center of it all.

He shook his head a little, a long hair falling across his face. He reached a large, pale hand to bat it away, felt the apparent greasiness of it, and recoiled at the state of himself. 

The man sat up, and looked around him for the first time. "Why on earth are all of you lying around like that? Isn't there to be a debate?" 

Everyone looked at him in shock. 

"I mean, after all, I need a chance to see how my new recipe for chocolate chip cookies works out--after I get a shower, of course."

Hermione sidled up to Albus Dumbledore. 

"Is that _really_ Professor Snape?"

He shook his head in amazement. "It's rather a drastic change..."

"I like it!" Ron proclaimed, biting into a perfectly golden cookie. The chips, melted in the oven, were smearing over his fingers and mouth. "Come on, Mione, get with the action--Professor Snape's starting a conga line in the lounge! He said something about getting out of the dark, and was wearing this perfectly awful Hawaiian shirt--let's go!"

"I've created a monster..." Hermione whispered, shaking her head as the said Hawaiian shirted man conga-d on by, presumably leading the long line of students back up out of the dungeons.

"No," the Headmaster said wisely. "You've just reacquainted one with the happier part of his soul. I'd say it's sort of a midlife crises, but we haven't any red sports cars, nor roads to drive them down, though I knew I would live to regret that shirt..." He drew himself back together, and scanned the brightly colored groups of people. "All in all, it's a rather spectacular party--shall we join it?"

Hermione looked out at the mass of students filling the suddenly colorful, well-lit dungeon halls--a mass which she knew would have expanded to fill every space on the way to the Hogwart's lounge. Couples danced to music suddenly pouring from the walls, confetti drifted over the gyrating groups, and even the ghosts were getting into the mood of things. 

_Potions classes will never be the same again--but that's not really a bad thing, is it?_

She saw Harry and Ginny living it up with a gaggle of Gryffindors, Seamus and Dean calling for bets on how long the party would go on, Neville was even flirting with a pretty Ravenclaw. Parvati was reading the cards to find out how hot of a night the Cancer's would be having, and there--there was Ron, starting to move off towards the disco ball.

"Why not?" She shrugged, transfigured her robes into clothes more suitable for a night out, and threw herself into the crowd. "Ron, wait up!"

****

A/N: I've finished my first story... 

I'd like to thank anyone who read, even if you didn't leave a review, but especially those who did--I appreciated all of the support, believe me! 

I meant to write a part about the debate, but it got to this point and I just couldn't see how it would work... If you'd really like to see it, please, give me some suggestions and I'll try to oblige! 

A thousand thank you's to my reviewers: **Dumbledore, Blue eyes, Noqui, Celestra, and Alie**!!!

Also, I'd like to thank my friend EvilFireWitch for all her support--check out her stories; "Voldemort's New Plan" is hilarious and "The Chosen One and Her Circle is equally wonderful--I recommend them both! 

Peace.


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